Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot. Upon Roscommon's Trans. of Horace, De Arte Poetica. Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above. Divine Love. Canto iii. That eagle's fate and mine are one, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.1 To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing. MARQUIS OF MONTROSE. 1612-1650. He either fears his fate too much, 1 So in the Libyan fable it is told That once an eagle, stricken with a dart, Eschylus, Fragm. 123, Plumptre's Translation. And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart. Byron, English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, Line 826. Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume That dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all. My Dear and only Love. I'll make thee glorious by my pen, And famous by my sword. Ibid. SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 1605-1682. Too rashly charged the troops of error and remain as trophies unto the enemies of truth. Religio Medici. Part i. Sec. vi. Rich with the spoils of nature.2 Ibid. Parti. Sec. xiii. Nature is the art of God.3 Ibid. Sec. xvi. There is music in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument. Ibid. Part ii. Sec. ix. Sleep is a death; O make me try On my grave as now my bed Ibid. Part ii. Sec. 12. Ruat cœlum, fiat voluntas tua.* Ibid. Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes and pompous in the grave. Urn-Burial. Ch. v. 1 From Napier's Mem. of Montrose, Vol. i. App. xxxiv. That puts it not unto the touch, To win or lose it all. From Napier's Montrose and the Covenanters, Vol. ii. 2 Rich with the spoils of time. - Gray, Elegy, St. 13. 8 See Young, Night Thoughts, ix. Line 1267. 4 Do well and right, and let the world sink. Herbert, Country Parson, Ch. 29. JOHN MILTON. 1608-1674 PARADISE LOST. Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit Book i. Line 1. Or if Sion hill Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook, that flowed Fast by the oracle of God. Line 10. Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. What in me is dark Line 16. Illumine, what is low raise and support; And justify the ways of God to men.1 Line 22. As far as Angel's ken. Line 59. Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible. Line 62. Where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all. Line 65. What though the field be lost? All is not lost; th' unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, 1 But vindicate the ways of God to man. Pope, Essay on Man, Ep. i. Line 16. To be weak is miserable, Paradise Lost continued.] Doing or suffering. Book i. Line 157. And out of good still to find means of evil. Book i. Line 165. Farewell happy fields, Where joy for ever dwells: hail, horrors; hail. Booki. Line 249. A mind not to be changed by place or time. Here we may reign secure, and in my choice Book i. Line 261. Heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge His spear, to equal which the tallest pine, Book i. Line 292. Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower. Book i. Line 302. Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen! Line 330. 1 Compare Book iv. Line 75. [Paradise Lost continued. Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both. Booki. Line 423. Execute their airy purposes. Book i. Line 430. When night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. Book i. Line 500. Th' imperial ensign, which, full high advanc'd, Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind.1 Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds: A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond Book i. Line 540. In perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders. Book i. Line 550. His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruined, and th' excess Of glory obscured. Booki. Line 591. In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Book i. Line 597. Thrice he assayed, and thrice in spite of scorn Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth. Book i. Line 619. 1 Compare Gray. The Bard, i. 2. Line 6. |